


Living Different Lives

by Miko no da (Miko)



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-01-01
Updated: 2000-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 13:30:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3251537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miko/pseuds/Miko%20no%20da
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something wrong with Omi, and Ken needs to find out what before his friend is torn apart... </p><p>(Posting OLD fics off my defunct website)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living Different Lives

Omi fidgeted nervously in the kitchen, keeping one eye on the oven timer and the other on the pot on the stove, to make sure it didn't boil over. He'd spent most of an hour laboriously searching the net for a recipe that would be easy to make, but taste good. He'd finally settled on baked salmon over rice, something that looked similar enough to Japanese food that they'd like it, but different enough to add some variety to their diet.

He wasn't even sure why he was going to so much effort. Sure, they desperately needed a change from the take-out they ordered every night, and it wasn't like any of the others could really cook. Aya could follow a recipe in his usual methodical manner, but he rarely took the time to bother. And Youji and Ken kept trying to skip steps from laziness or impatience, respectively. Still, why should Omi be the one to go to so much trouble?

Especially since it was just he and Ken at home tonight. Youji had a date that promised to keep him out until midnight, at least; Aya had gone looking for his missing sister, curtly informing the two younger boys not to expect him back before morning. Omi wasn't really certain what Aya expected to accomplish by himself that the police couldn't do, but he could see how much Aya needed to be doing SOMEthing, so he said nothing.

Then again, the fact that he and Ken were alone tonight might have something to do with why he was making a mess of the kitchen to make them a real meal. Omi felt his heart skip a beat, and pressed the back of his hand against his cheek to try to cool the sudden blush that sprang into being. Something very odd had been happening between Omi and Ken lately. Somewhere along the line, their usual friendly banter had turned just the slightest bit intimate. At some point, without either of them really realizing it, the teasing had taken on a hint of sexual overtones.

And then, last week when they were alone in the back of the shop replanting seedlings, Ken had done something very strange. He'd leaned over to wipe off a smudge of dirt Omi had just left on his own face, laughing at Omi's carelessness. That in itself wasn't odd. What was odd was the way the laughter had faded from his face the closer he'd come, and how the brush of his thumb had turned into something more, leaving him cupping Omi's face with his hand. And then he'd done the strangest thing of all - he'd leaned in and brushed his lips over Omi's with breathtaking tenderness.

It had only lasted for a fraction of a second, the contact gone so quickly Omi wasn't entirely certain he hadn't imagined it. Ken had turned bright red and mumbled something about helping Aya up front, and bolted. Omi had remained unmoving among the flowers for a good five minutes, gaping after his best friend.

Now, Omi wasn't as completely innocent as the others supposed. He WAS an eighteen-year-old boy, after all, with the normal urges and hormones that entailed. He'd spent his share of lunch-hours in the locker room with the other boys in his class, looking with fascination through someone's father's collection of 'dirty' magazines. What had confused him then, and still confused him now, was how the other boys could find such images appealing. In fact, he wondered how they could find girls appealing at all!

Omi knew that he was the strange one, being more attracted to his gorgeous housemates than to the girls that flocked around him in the flower shop. But he'd dealt with his uncertainties over it a long time ago, and accepted the fact that he was unlikely to ever end up having a girlfriend of any kind. So when Ken had initiated that abortive kiss, he'd been less shocked at his own reaction then at the idea that KEN shared his forbidden fascination.

Since that day Ken had pretty much been avoiding him, or at least avoiding being alone with him. Omi figured that his friend probably thought he was disgusted, and didn't want to have to face any recriminations. He smiled brightly. Little did Ken realize how very much Omi wanted him to do it again.

So, this dinner. Hopefully Ken would take it as a peace offering, and open up to him a little. Omi had been afraid that Ken might take off somewhere as soon as the shop closed, but the weather had worked in his favour, starting a thunderous downpour just an hour before their shift ended. So Ken wasn't likely to leave the apartment, especially with the incentive of a European soccer game that was being televised tonight, which he'd been looking forward to for weeks.

Ken wandered into the kitchen just as Omi was laying the salmon fillets over the rice on two plates. He blinked twice, staring at the food Omi'd prepared. "Na, Omittchi, what's all this?"

Omi flushed slightly, and twisted a dishtowel between his hands, nervous now that the moment of truth was here. "I - I thought maybe we could use a change from take-out," he said shyly. When Ken continued to stare and say nothing, he deflated a bit. "If you don't want any, that's okay. I'll just wrap it up, and..."

Ken caught his hand as he reached down to take away the second plate, and smiled at him. Omi's heart stopped in his chest for a long moment at the sight of it. He knew Ken thought he wasn't much in the looks department beside Aya and Youji, but if he only knew how his smile could light up a room...

"It looks great, Omi," Ken said softly. "I just wondered why you went to so much trouble. God knows I'm getting tired of ramen and pizza." He hesitated, then added, "Do you want to eat it out in the living room? The game's on in a few minutes and I, uh, I wouldn't mind some company..."

Omi nodded, smiling back at him, and they took their plates out to the main room. Ken turned on the wide-screen TV - Youji's contribution - and flipped to the sports channel. They both settled into the soft leather of the couch to eat their dinner.

An hour later the dirty dishes were stacked on the coffee table before them, and they were curled up together, cuddling. Omi had hesitantly moved so that he was resting up against Ken's side, and Ken had equally hesitantly lifted his arm to drape it over Omi's shoulder. Now they were both paying more attention to each other's warmth and breathing than to the game. This position felt natural to Omi, as though he'd been perfectly formed to fit up against Ken's side like this.

"Omi," Ken's voice was a quite breath against his cheek, as the older boy looked down at his friend's head resting on his shoulder. "About what happened, last week..."

Omi raised his head so he could see Ken's face, breath catching in anticipation. "Hai?"

"You're... you're not mad at me?"

Omi had to smile at that. "Do I seem like I'm mad at you, Ken-kun?" he asked with his best innocent tone of voice.

"N-no..." Ken drew the word out until it was a question in and of itself. Omi decided to put him out of his misery.

"I liked it," he confided softly. He felt Ken tense slightly against him. "I... was wondering if maybe you'd do it again?"

"Omi..." There was a mixture of wonder and excitement in Ken's voice as he cupped Omi's cheek with his free hand, echoing the gesture he'd made last week. "Are you... are you really sure? I mean..."

Omi hushed him with two fingers on his lips. "I'm sure, Ken-kun," he affirmed. Ken grinned against his fingers, and opened his mouth enough to draw the tips inside, biting down gently. Omi gasped a little at the feeling, then gasped again as a rough, wet tongue swept against the sensitive pads. Ken released his fingers from his lips, and he brought them down to clutch at the older boy's shirt.

"Omi..." Whatever else he'd meant to say was lost against Omi's lips as he leaned down to claim a kiss. This time it was firm and insistent, nothing like the tentative brush in the shop. Omi kissed him back shyly, not entirely certain what he was supposed to be doing.

There was a strange, tense feeling developing in his stomach, making his nerves jump every time Ken moved against him. It wasn't an entirely pleasant sensation, and Omi wondered if he was doing something wrong. He tensed as Ken swept his tongue out to touch his lips just as he'd touched the tips of his fingers. He knew he was supposed to open his lips now, but the thought was disturbing. He pulled back slightly.

"Ken..."

"It's okay, Omi," Ken reassured him. "I won't do anything you're not ready for, I promise. If you want me to stop doing something, just say so and I will. Okay?" There was an intense light burning in Ken's eyes, turning the normal emerald a strange shade of blue-green. It was unsettling, the depth of feeling in that gaze, and Omi nodded reluctantly.

Ken kissed him again, not trying to get entry this time. Omi relaxed marginally into the embrace. This wasn't so bad - in fact it was sweet, and the knot in his stomach started to dissolve.

Then Ken pulled away from his lips and trailed kisses down over his cheek, to the column of his neck. Omi gasped and tensed, the knot coming back ten-fold. Ken was laying a line of sharp nips and soothing kisses over the sensitive skin along his jaw, bringing a rush of sensations that Omi KNEW he didn't like.

"Ken!" he protested, bringing his hands up to his friend's shoulder. But Ken apparently took the exclamation as one of pleasure, because Omi could feel him smile against his neck.

"Just relax, Omittchi," he murmured, pulling the smaller boy a little more into his lap.

Omi moaned at the heat of Ken's body against his. He could identify the flutter in his gut as terror now, and he fought against it, knowing it was irrational. Why should he be afraid of Ken? Hadn't he wanted this touch, these kisses? Hadn't he been daydreaming about this for the last week? Ken would never hurt him, Ken would never force him, Ken would never...

Ken pulled him closer again, enough that he could feel the heat of his friend's burgeoning interest against his thigh, and something snapped inside Omi. He went rigid, his whole body locked with fear so deep he couldn't even draw breath, couldn't even beg Ken to stop, and his mind blanked out...

Ken felt the sudden change in his friend's posture and pulled back a little, frowning. Omi was staring straight ahead with a look of utter terror, and Ken's eyes widened. "Omi, what... uf!"

All the air was forced out of his lungs at once as Omi came to life again, planting his hands on Ken's chest and shoving hard. Ken tumbled back against the side of the couch, gasping for air as Omi lunged to his feet. The smaller boy was panting and trembling, his fists clenched at his sides, as he stared at Ken with something closer to hate than fear.

"Don't," he snarled, and Ken was shocked at the tone he used. Omi's voice had never been that deep, that rough. "Don't you dare. I won't let you!"

Ken had to blink a few times, trying to reconcile the 'ore's and 'teme's in that sentence with the sweet, always-polite boy he knew. It was as though there was an entirely different person standing before him, who happened to bear a superficial resemblance to Omi. "Omi?" he asked, bewildered at the sudden change.

"He trusted you!" Omi hissed, shaking with fury. "You're no better than all the others. I know what you want, and you're not getting it! I won't let you hurt him!" He was backing away, towards the hallway leading to their bedrooms, looking ready to do serious damage if Ken took so much as a step towards him.

Ken stayed right where he was. He didn't think his legs would support him, even if he did try to get up. He watched with growing confusion as Omi turned and bolted for his room, slamming the door behind him. Not until the 'click' of the lock turning reached him was Ken able to move again.

"What the hell was THAT?" he wondered aloud, eyes wide. One moment Omi had been receptive to his touch, if a little nervous - understandable for someone whose only experience up to this point consisted of maybe one or two kisses with a girl who'd turned out to be his sister - and the next he'd been hissing and spitting like a riled cat. And the language! He'd never heard Omi refer to himself by anything other than 'boku', and the only time he'd ever heard Omi use even 'omae' to refer to someone else was when his brother Hirofumi was beating him.

What he'd said hadn't made much sense, either. 'HE trusted you.' 'I won't let you hurt HIM.' Him who? And the talk about being no better than 'all the others'...

Ken stared at the closed door to his friend's room. There was obviously a lot more going on in Omi's head then any of them had realized.

 

* * *

Ken felt like he was walking on broken glass the next morning as he entered the kitchen. He'd spent a sleepless night tossing and turning, debating what he should say to Omi the next time he saw him. Apologize? Demand an explanation for Omi's weird behavior? Or should he just ignore it, and pretend it had never happened?

He still hadn't decided by the time morning came around. Omi was already at the table, munching on some brightly coloured cereal as he flipped through a textbook whose pages had been highlighted so much, they looked like they were yellow with an occasional white line. Aya was slouched over a cup of coffee in the corner, and Ken cursed internally. He'd hoped to get a chance to talk to Omi without the others present. Oh, well. Aya wasn't much in the mornings until he'd had at least two cups of coffee, and from the look of him, he was still on his first.

"Hey, Omi," Ken said hesitantly. Omi glanced up at him, and smiled brightly in welcome. He was a little taken aback.

"Ken-kun!" Omi greeted him. "Ohayo gozaimasu! Thank you, by the way."

Now he was as confused as he'd been last night. "Huh? What for?"

"For putting me to bed last night. I can't believe I just fell asleep on your shoulder like that." There was a sheepish look on his face. "Gomen nasai."

Ken blinked, trying to process that. All these abrupt turn-arounds were making him dizzy. Finally, he realized that Omi was trying to give him a graceful way out. All was forgiven, so long as he never brought it up again. He nodded slightly.

"Aa. No problem. Thanks for making dinner, it was great." Ken had to admit he was a little disappointed - he'd been ecstatic when he'd discovered that Omi shared his attraction. But if this was what Omi wanted, that was fine. Their friendship was more important to Ken than the lost chance at a relationship.

Omi glanced at the clock, then quickly slurped up the last sugary milk in the bowl and stood. "You'd better hurry and eat, Ken-kun. All three of us are opening shop this morning, remember?" He dumped the bowl and spoon into the sink, and grinned at Aya. "Aya-kun. Wake up!" Aya blinked into his coffee, then glanced up at the younger boy. "I'll be downstairs opening up. You two come down whenever you're ready." Omi waved at them, and disappeared down the stairs.

Ken chuckled at the look of sleepy confusion on Aya's face. For all the red head lectured Youji about his morning laziness, he really wasn't much better. Sure, he was physically present on the mornings he had to open, but he wasn't really THERE. He wasn't much use for anything before about ten o'clock in the morning, unless it was mission related. He woke up fast enough then.

The ex-soccer player grabbed an apple and followed Omi to the stairs. "See you in a bit, Aya," he said, waving over his shoulder. Aya nodded and went back to contemplating the mysteries of his coffee. Ken chuckled again.

Omi was watering the plants in the front room as Ken came in and grabbed his apron. He was glad it was summer break for the high schools, because normally Ken had to open the store alone - Aya and Youji weren't much help - while Omi went to school. He grabbed a broom, and started sweeping.

They worked together in silent harmony, motions synchronized by nearly two years of familiarity. On days like this, Ken could almost forget about the dark double life they led, could pretend for a while that he was just a normal person. Omi helped add to the illusion, humming cheerfully as he worked. Sometimes Ken wondered at his friend's ability to keep smiling despite everything that had happened to him. Honestly, it was like Omi didn't even remember about their nightlives in the light of day.

He was startled by the touch of a soft hand on his arm, and halted the hypnotic motion of the broom. Glancing over, he found Omi watching him shyly, a slight blush staining his cheeks pink. "Eh? Nani, Omi?" he asked, puzzled.

Omi glanced towards the door to the stairway, as if assuring himself that Aya wasn't on his way down to interrupt them. "Ken-kun, I... I can't believe I fell asleep like that last night. I wanted to tell you..." He gulped in a deep breath, blushing harder. "That I... didn't mind, what you did in the store last week. Actually, I liked it. And I wondered if... if maybe you wouldn't mind doing it again some time?" He blurted out the last all in a rush, as if afraid he'd lose the courage to say it if it took more than two seconds to get out.

Ken stared at him, wide-eyed. Was this some roundabout way of apologizing for his reaction last night, and asking if they could try again? But why not just say so? Why keep up the pretense that he'd fallen asleep before anything happened?

Omi was fidgeting under his gaze, blushing more and more as the seconds ticked by. Finally Ken found his voice. "Omi, I... I don't understand. After what happened last night, I didn't think you'd want me coming near you again any time soon..." He trailed off as Omi frowned, looking adorably confused.

"Last night? What do you mean? What happened last night?" If Ken hadn't known better, he'd have thought that Omi honestly had no idea what he was talking about.

It was his turn to frown. "Omi... we got into a fight last night. Don't you remember?"

Omi shook his head, startled. "No. A fight? I don't remember fighting with you. What on earth did we fight about?"

Ken felt like he'd walked into an episode of that weird American television show he'd stumbled across once. The Sunset Zone? Something like that. He kept expecting to hear that eerie theme music float out of nowhere. It certainly wouldn't be any stranger than what was happening.

He decided to try to explain, and see where that got him. "We... I kissed you. And you were kissing back, except then you got all tense and looked like you were scared. Before I could ask you what was wrong, you shoved me away and started yelling at me, then you ran for your room and locked the door."

Omi blinked. "I wondered how you'd managed to lock the door," he muttered softly, to himself. "But I... I don't remember anything like that. The last thing I remember was curling up next to you, watching the soccer game. Then I woke up this morning in bed - I thought you must have put me there when I fell asleep."

They stared at each other, bewildered and a little scared. Hesitantly, Ken asked, "Could it be your amnesia? Some kind of weird side effect? I mean, they say that people who've lost their memory once are more likely to have it happen again. Maybe the stress...?"

"But... why?" Omi shook his head. "Why was I yelling at you? I wouldn't be frightened of you. I know you'd never hurt me. And I..." he trailed off at the sound of a soft chime from the back room, and they both tensed.

"Birman," Ken murmured. Omi stared at him blankly for a moment, as if not understanding, then nodded. His expression had changed, the confusion and fear replaced by cold determination. It was always this way when they had a mission. All of them knew that personal concerns took second place to the mission, to staying alive. "I'll get Aya and Youji, you tell Birman we're on our way down," he instructed. Omi nodded, and they split up to carry out their respective tasks.

 

* * *

Ken swore as another bullet zinged past his head, burying itself in the wall just an inch from his temple. He ducked and weaved, trying to present as random a target as possible to the crossfire from the corridor. Just a few more feet, and he'd be around the corner and out of the line of fire, at least for a moment. The tail of Omi's jacket had just vanished around the corner, and he didn't hear the sound of more gunfire from ahead, so presumably there were no guards ahead of them.

He skidded around the corner, nearly losing his footing, and plowed right into Omi's back. He sent the younger boy stumbling forward, right into the grip of the smirking man aiming a gun at them. Ken froze, staring down the barrel, sweating.

The man had Omi by the neck, and he shoved him up against the wall. The gun never wavered from Ken's heart, and he cursed again, helpless. The two guards that had been chasing them pounded around the corner, but they held their fire at a gesture from the man before them.

"You're the ones that off'd the Boss?" the man asked incredulously. "You're just a couple of brats!" Ken snarled at him and clenched his fist around the lever in the palm of his glove, making the razor-sharp knives spring forward over his knuckles. Instantly two muzzles were shoved into his back, and he froze again.

"Smart kid," the man said, lowering his own gun and turning his attention to Omi. The younger assassin was choking around his meaty fist, smaller hands futilely prying at his grip to try to get some air. He backed off just enough to let Omi breathe.

"What've we got here? Ain't you the cute little thing." The guard shoved his gun into its holster, and, still pinning Omi to the wall by the throat, used his free hand to grope the boy's chest obscenely. "What say we have some fun with these two before we make 'em corpses, eh boys?" The two men holding Ken hostage chuckled nastily.

"Get your hands off him!" Ken snarled impotently, the leather of his gloves creaking beneath the pressure of his fists. The man laughed at him.

"Oh, pretty boy objecting to my treatment of his little boyfriend?" He sneered at Ken. "How's about I make you watch while I fuck him, and then my boys can have turns with you while he dies?" He dropped his hand to Omi's crotch and squeezed.

Omi tried to jerk away, choking as the action rammed his Adam's apple into the man's hand. "Mamoru..." he gasped, fighting for air. "Tasukete!"

Ken frowned as Omi went rigid in the man's grasp, staring blankly over his shoulder as he rubbed and squeezed at the boy's crotch. 'Mamoru' meant 'protect', but it was also Omi's original given name. Why would he be asking for help from himself?

Sense came back to Omi's face, as he lifted his knee in a lightning-quick movement. The man instinctively moved to protect his own crotch, expecting the assassin to try for the easy shot - instead Omi slammed his foot down on the man's knee. The crack of bone snapping was audible, and Ken actually SAW his kneecap slip out of place. Howling, the man staggered backwards, releasing Omi from his hold.

Before the two men holding Ken at gunpoint could react, Omi had flashed by him, striking the one on the left with a high roundhouse kick to the side of his face. Ken heard bone breaking again as he whirled, slashing at the remaining guard with his claw. The man fell, chest torn open by the blades, and he saw the other collapsing slowly, head titled at an impossible angle. His neck was broken, snapped by the force of Omi's kick.

He was shoved to the side as a gun went off just behind them, and turned to see the first guard aiming for a second shot. He crouched for a lunge, but Omi beat him to it. The smaller boy pounced like a giant cat, landing hard on the man's chest and reaching for his neck. Ken gagged and had to turn away as Omi clenched his hand and yanked, literally tearing his throat out with his bare hands. The guard flopped about, choking to death on his own blood, air whistling and bubbling with a horrible noise in his ruined airways.

When Ken was finally able to get his stomach under control, he turned back to see Omi still sitting on the guard's chest, hands dripping with blood and gore, staring blankly into space. Ken approached him cautiously, not entirely certain what had just happened. Omi had displayed a brutal ferocity that Ken wouldn't have thought he could possess, and Ken KNEW he'd never seen the boy perform so well in a hand-to-hand fight. There was a reason that Omi used long-range weapons, and avoided close in fighting whenever possible. Certainly their lives had been on the line, and that had been known to give people abilities beyond their normal limits - but their lives had been on the line before, and he'd never seen Omi react this way.

"O- Bombay?" He remembered to use the code name just in time, aware that there might be surveillance equipment within range of their voices. He paused just out of arm's reach. The boy blinked twice, then stared down at his hands, wide-eyed.

"I... what..." He saw the ruin of the guard's throat and cried out, scrambling backwards. "Oh my god!" He retched helplessly, rapidly emptying the contents of his stomach. Ken crouched down next to him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Bombay, it's okay. It's over. You did what you had to do. Bombay..."

The younger assassin was crying as he wiped his mouth, turning into the comfort Ken offered him. "I... I've never... how did I..."

"You saved both of us. And you got carried away. It happens, but it's okay. It's okay now." He hugged his teammate close, then impulsively leaned down to kiss him. He just knew that he wanted Omi to feel safe, to remind him that not all touches had to be ugly.

Omi shoved him away with another cry, and stared at him wildly. He scrubbed at his mouth again. "Siberian! What are you doing?"

Ken froze, words blocked by the sudden lump in his throat. Omi was giving him a look of utter disgust, shrinking away from his touch so that he was as far away as possible in the narrow corridor. Ken had seen that look before, on the faces of some of his J-League teammates who had found out about his relationship with Kase. It wasn't something he'd ever expected from sweet, tolerant Omi, and it certainly wasn't expected after the way Omi had been asking for his kiss just a few hours ago! Surely one brief encounter with a pervert wasn't enough to turn the boy instantly homophobic?

Before he could think of what to say, Aya's voice crackled over their receivers. "Bombay. Siberian. Position?"

Omi turned away from him with one last look of disgust, and answered. "Bombay here. We're still inside, on the second floor. We ran into some trouble with a few guards."

"The target is dead, but the alarms have been activated," Aya replied. "We need to get out of here before the police show up."

"Acknowledged. Siberian and I are on our way out. Don't wait for us - we'll meet you back at base."

Stiffly, Omi stood, refusing to so much as glance at Ken. "Let's go." He stalked off down the hall, shuddering once more as he passed the guard's bloody corpse. Ken followed, feeling more confused than he'd ever been in his entire life. What the hell was going on?

 

* * *

Ken stumbled into the kitchen the next morning, exhausted. Omi hadn't said one word to him the whole way back to the Koneko, and had disappeared into his room the moment they'd returned. Ken had spent another sleepless night trying to figure out what was going on inside his friend's head. Omi had made so many abrupt changes of mood and attitude in the last twenty-four hours that Ken was starting to think he was dealing with several different people!

Aya was alone in the kitchen when he came in, and was apparently on at least his third cup of coffee, because he was mostly awake and coherent. He nodded a greeting to Ken before returning to scanning the morning paper.

Ken went through the motions of making breakfast on autopilot, mind still swirling with confusion. He wasn't sure whether to confront Omi about his strange behavior, or leave the whole thing alone. One thing was for sure, he wasn't going to try kissing him again any time soon! His chest was already bruised from the hard shoves he'd received the last two times he'd tried.

Omi wandered in, yawning adorably. He smiled cheerfully at the room's occupants. "Ohayo, minna-kun!" he chirped, moving to get his cereal. He sat down beside Ken and dug in, showing no evidence of the disgust and revulsion of the night before.

Ken's temper, never great at the best of times, snapped. "What is WITH you, Omi?" he demanded, glaring. Omi blinked at him, startled, and Aya raised an eyebrow. "You're driving me crazy! Would you just pick one reaction and stick with it?"

Omi had frozen with the spoon halfway to his mouth, staring. Aya was looking equally bemused, and seemed to be debating whether a hasty retreat was in order. Ken ignored him, uncaring for the moment if he was letting his secret slip.

"Wh-what are you talking about, Ken-kun?"

Ken made a frustrated noise. "I can't figure you out! First you flirt with me and make me dinner, then you yell at me for kissing you, then you ASK me to kiss you again, and then you shove me away and act disgusted! And now you're acting like nothing happened at all!"

Aya's eyes had widened, and Omi was blushing furiously. "Ken-kun!" he hissed, glancing sideways at their older teammate. Ken shook his head.

"I don't care if he hears me. Maybe if I've got some witnesses this time, you won't pull another about-face on me."

Omi buried his face in his hands to hide the scarlet of his cheeks. "Didn't we already HAVE this conversation?" he half-wailed, peering at Ken between his fingers. "I told you, I don't remember fighting with you! And..."

He straightened suddenly, glancing around as if confused. "But... that was in the shop. After breakfast. Wasn't it?" He looked at Ken for confirmation. "But we're having breakfast now, so... did I dream that?"

"We had that conversation YESTERDAY, Omi!" Ken exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "And we were interrupted before we could finish it!"

There was a hint of panic creeping into Omi's expression now. "Yesterday?" he repeated, voice trembling. "But... that was in the morning. I... I don't remember... what happened? Wh-what did I DO all day yesterday?" His voice was rising as he spoke, until it broke on the last word. Ken and Aya both stared at him in amazement.

"You were researching all day yesterday, bishounen," Youji commented from the doorway with a yawn. He frowned into the room at them. "Why all the long faces, guys?"

Omi was shaking, folding his arms around his torso as if to hold himself together. "Researching? Why? School doesn't start again for another two weeks. And I had morning shift yesterday. Why..."

Ken was beginning to realize that there was more at stake here than Omi's reaction to his kisses. "You were researching the mission, Omi," he said slowly, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his friend's arm. "We were interrupted by Birman, coming to brief us. Momoe-san took care of the store yesterday, like she always does when we've got a mission."

"Mi-mission?" Omi nearly squeaked. He looked like he was ready to burst into tears. "I... I don't..." He froze abruptly, staring right through Ken as if he wasn't there, then shook his head.

He snatched his arm out of Ken's reach, glaring at him. "Will you stop DOING that?" he demanded harshly. His entire body language had changed, going from frightened and confused to angry and repulsed. "I'm still mad enough at you!"

All three of them were gaping at him now, Ken sitting there with his hand out, unable to gather the wit to pull it back in. "Omi..."

Omi glared back at him, clearly furious. "What? Why are you bothering me? The mission's over, we got the target, so leave me alone! I don't even want to talk to you after what you did last night!" He shoved his chair away from the table and jumped up, stalking to the door and pounding down the stairs to the shop.

Ken, Aya and Youji stared at each other for a long moment, silent. Finally Ken scrambled for the door, the other two hot on his heels.

They found Omi standing in the middle of the store, leaning against the table and staring at one of the displays, trembling. There were tears on his cheeks as he turned to face them.

"Ken-kun..." he gasped, choking on a sob. The fury was gone, replaced once more by terror, as Ken skidded to a halt just a few feet in front of him. He could feel Aya and Youji watching from the doorway.

"Ken-kun... what's happening to me?" Omi sniffled, shaking harder. "How did I get down here? You were just yelling at me and I... I..." He shook his head. "And then I was here!"

Ken reached out to him, and Omi took two steps forward to collapse in his arms, his entire body shuddering with the force of his sobs. Ken folded his arms around him and held him close, rocking him gently. "I don't know, Omi."

"What do you remember, Omi?" Aya asked quietly, moving to stand beside them. Omi sniffled again and glanced up through watery eyes.

"I... it's more like what CAN'T I remember," he said quietly. "I don't remember how I got down here, or ANYthing that happened yesterday after Ken-kun and I were talking, or the fight he says we had the night before..." He was crying in earnest now, tears pouring over his cheeks.

"And more. So much more! I'm missing entire DAYS, I think, maybe even weeks. And I can only remember bits and pieces of anything before about two years ago! And worst of all, I never even REALIZED before this that I was missing anything!"

"TWO years?" Youji repeated, startled. "I thought your amnesia started from when you were eleven or so?"

Omi shook his head. "This explains why sometimes it seems like my lectures are skipping subjects at school, and why there's stuff in the texts and on the tests that I don't remember learning. I thought I must have just been daydreaming in class or something, but..."

"This doesn't make any sense," Ken said as Omi trailed off. "You were starting to get your memories BACK, after that whole mess with Masafumi and Hirofumi... why are you losing them again now?"

Omi glanced at him, startled. "Masafumi? Hirofumi? Who are they?"

The older three Weiss glanced at each other over Omi's head. "Maybe he's repressing it again, because he remembered something he couldn't handle?" Youji finally suggested. "Manx always did say he was better off not knowing..."

"Who's Manx?" Omi nearly wailed, fisting his hands in Ken's shirt. "You're not making any sense, any of you!"

Ken looked at him, wide-eyed. "Omi, you don't remember Manx?" Omi shook his head. "She practically raised you! After Persia rescued you from your kidnappers..."

"Kidnappers?" Omi's voice cracked, and he pulled away, nearly hysterical. "I... I don't... this isn't... ah! Gods!" He fell to his knees, clutching his head as if he was in pain, staring blankly at the floor.

Before any of them could move to touch him, he exploded to his feet again. The tears were gone, the last traces drying on his cheeks as they watched. They'd been replaced by a repressed fury and violence that was completely unlike the Omi they knew. "Stop it!" he cried, and his voice had changed to the deep, rough tones he'd used in the fight with Ken that had started the whole mess. "You're ruining it! All of you, just stop it!"

He glared at them all, daring any of them to touch him. None of them took the dare, staring at him from a few feet away. His chest was heaving as he panted for air, and the look in his eyes was like a cornered animal, desperate and only half-sane.

"You don't understand," he said, slowly calming as they made no move toward him. "You're destroying him. He can't handle this. You'll make him fall apart!"

"Make who fall apart?" Ken blurted.

"Omi! God dammit, I've spent the last fourteen years trying to protect him, and now you're ruining it!"

They all stared at each other, at a stalemate. No one seemed to know what to say. Finally Omi collapsed down into one of the chairs at the table, burying his face in his hands. "Please," he whispered brokenly. "Please don't push him like this. It's already all I can do to keep us from fracturing further..."

One by one, the others followed his lead and sat. Ken for one was grateful for the chair beneath him - he didn't think his legs would have kept supporting him much longer.

"Who are you?" Aya asked, apparently deciding to treat this in as logical a fashion as possible, considering the completely illogical circumstances.

Omi barked a laugh, completely unlike his normal cheerful sound. "Who do you think? I'm Takatori Mamoru." There was a moment of shocked silence around the table at that. He chuckled, the sound mirthless. "Weren't expecting that, huh?"

"Then, Omi's amnesia..." Youji ventured hesitantly. Omi - Mamoru? - shook his head.

"Omi doesn't have amnesia. Not the way you mean it. He doesn't remember because he wasn't THERE. I was. Or Bombay."

"Bombay?" Ken repeated. Mamoru nodded.

"He's the one who handles Kritiker stuff. He was created when Persia started training me. Him. Us. God dammit, I'm not used to talking about this!" He sighed, and raked his hands through his hair. "Omi was created pretty much when the three of you joined him here, in the flower shop. He's got a few of Bombay's earlier memories, but not many. And nothing connected to Kritiker or Weiss."

"What you're saying," Youji said slowly, "is that you have DID." At a curious glance from the others, he elaborated. "Disassociative Identity Disorder. Previously known as 'multiple personalities'. I had an informant who had about thirty different personalities while I was working as a P.I., so I studied up on it a little."

"Omi? Split personalities?" Ken was starting to feel a little like a parrot, but he couldn't seem to come up with anything intelligent to say through his shock.

Mamoru sighed. "I don't know what else you'd call it." They all digested that for a little while.

"Are you the primary personality?" Youji finally asked. "I thought they weren't supposed to know about the other ones..."

Mamoru shook his head. "No. I... used to be, I think. Before I was kidnapped. But then when Persia rescued me, Bombay was created, and he became the primary. And then Omi came along, and I'm pretty sure he's dominant now. Bombay can hear me, sometimes, if I try hard enough, though he doesn't really know anything about Omi. But Omi doesn't know about any of us."

"How many of you are there?" Aya asked. He seemed to be taking this better than Youji and Ken, but the tense look around the corners of his mouth belied his outward calm.

"I think... just four. I'm aware of pretty much everything that happens - or at least, I don't have any blank spots the way Bombay and Omi do, even when I'm not in control. And I've never noticed more than three others."

"Who's the fourth?" Ken asked, surprised.

"Mamo-chan. At least, that's what I call him. He was the first of us, I think. He's only four or so, and he never says anything now. He built up walls around him over the years, until I can't really see him any more. I only know he's there because the walls are still there. For all I know, he's gone and only the walls are left. If he IS still around, he's pretty much lost in his own little reality."

"So when that guard was molesting Omi - Bombay - last night, he called on you?" Ken asked with sudden insight. The others stared at him in shock. Oh, right - he'd been so bewildered at Omi's behavior that he'd forgotten to tell them about just what HAD happened to delay them.

Mamoru looked unexpectedly grim. "He tried to. I'm the one that handles... that kind of shit." He looked away, not meeting their eyes. "But he didn't get me. I was there, I could see what was happening, but I wasn't in control." He shivered. "I think Bombay is starting to split again. Ever since that damn mission involving the kidnapped children..." He growled.

"That's when Omi started to get his memories back," Youji said thoughtfully.

"No, that's when BOMBAY started to get memories back. From me. Somehow the shock of it connected us, just a little, and he started to remember who he was. And what happened to create him." There was a sense of weight about him, as if he'd seen far more in his short life than anyone had a right to ever see. "It's been tearing him apart. He's starting to question Kritiker, question what he does. He's a killer, it's all he knows. It's all he's ever been. But he's starting to realize there's more than that to life, and that he's missing something. And he's starting to feel guilty for the people he's killing. I think he's subconsciously trying to separate himself from the violence in his life."

"Creating another personality," Youji concluded. Mamoru nodded.

"A brutal one. Bombay never uses his hand-to-hand training, because he doesn't like feeling the person die. If he really wanted to, he could probably give Schuldich a good fight. But he hates it, so he's repressed that training. So this new personality has all of that ability, and none of the sense of duty and distaste that holds Bombay back."

"Leaving us with someone capable of tearing out a person's throat with his bare hands, and not even blinking," Ken finished, feeling sick. He remembered the awful gleam of satisfaction that had been in Omi's eyes before Ken had turned away, unable to look any more. It had been gone when he'd turned back - but by then his friend had reverted to Bombay.

"So, Omi knows nothing about Kritiker or Weiss?" Aya asked, his mind apparently following a different track than the conversation.

"Aa. As far as Omi's concerned, he's a normal high school student with a part-time job in a flower shop, and he's an orphan that lives with his three closest friends. He doesn't know anything about computers, and he wouldn't know what to do with a crossbow if his life depended on it. He's an innocent. And I want to keep him that way!"

"That may not be possible," Aya said firmly. "If Bombay is indeed splitting again, we can't let that happen. If what Ken says is true," he glanced at Ken, who nodded to confirm his story, "then we must not let him come into existence. That kind of brutality has no place in Weiss."

"You don't understand!" Mamoru burst out, jumping to his feet and slamming his hands down on the table. "You think I haven't tried to fix us before? I got Bombay to look it up on the net once, while he was waiting for a search to finish. The way to fix split personalities is to merge the personalities again. Do you have any idea what that would do to Omi? Or hell, to Bombay for that matter? It's bad enough that I had to live through that shit. I've managed to protect them from it, and I'm not going to let them suffer it now!" He was trembling again, looking like he was fighting to control himself.

"I won't let you hurt them," he whispered fiercely. "I'll kill myself before I'll let you subject them to my memories, do you understand me?" From the fire of conviction in his eyes, none of them had any doubt that he would do exactly as he said. He bowed his head, gritting his teeth and staring fixedly at the table.

When he looked up again, most of the tension was gone, as was the fiery anger. What was left was a kind of heavy weariness. "I'm going out," he said, in Omi's normal tone of voice. Bombay, Ken realized. "Call me on my cell if there's a mission. Otherwise don't expect to see me for the rest of the day." He stalked to the back door, slamming it shut behind him.

Ken leaned back and whistled softly. "Why didn't we ever realize this before?" he asked the room at large.

Youji put his elbow on the table and leaned his head on his hand, long fingers twining around a few locks of his hair. "I'm remembering this from a long time ago, mind you," he said slowly. "And I didn't pay much attention to the symptoms in children, since my informant was an adult. And damn, if he hadn't been such a GOOD informant, I wouldn't have put up with the dozen-odd personalities that hated my guts. But..." he sighed. "From what I read, I think the symptoms are a lot more subtle in younger people. Fewer personalities, and less difference between them. I don't think any of us have seen Mamoru before, just Omi and Bombay. And there was no reason for us to suspect that he was a different person on missions, because we ALL act differently then."

"So this will get worse as he gets older?" Aya asked.

Youji nodded. "Probably. The average number of personalities for adults is thirty-some odd, and the range is anywhere from two to a hundred plus. And they'll get weirder, too. The personalities can be different gender, race, background, anything."

"But how can they think they're a different gender or race?" Ken burst out. "All they have to do is look in a mirror!"

Youji shrugged. "They're insane, Kenken. They see what they want to see, what they expect to see. Like how starving anorexics can look at themselves in a mirror and think they're still fat. They're not seeing anything different from anyone else, their mind just interprets it differently."

"So... what creates them? I mean, how did this whole thing start in the first place? Is it just something that would've happened to him no matter what, or is it because of the kidnapping and his training?"

"Not because of that. Remember, Mamoru said that he wasn't the first. If the first split happened when he was four, and the original personality never aged, that would explain Mamo-chan." Youji sighed. "The fact is, the vast majority of split personality cases stem from early childhood abuse. Usually, though not always, sexual in nature."

"Sexual..." Ken trailed off, staring at him in horror. "I knew Takatori was a bastard, but..."

Aya's knuckles were white where he'd clenched his fists on the edge of the table. "Kisama," he muttered. "If he weren't already dead, I'd kill him just for that. Bad enough to abandon his own child, but to abuse him as well..."

"Now, hang on just a second," Youji said quickly. "He may not be any worse then we already knew. And it may have been just as much Masafumi's fault as Reiji's. Remember all those nightmares that Omi - err, Bombay I guess - has about Masafumi 'experimenting' on him..."

"It wasn't just physical," Ken interrupted with a sick certainty. "The first time I realized something was wrong, we were... err..." He blushed, suddenly realizing what he was about to confess. It was one thing to blurt out his preferences in the heat of an argument; it was another thing entirely to talk about it in a normal conversation.

Youji raised an eyebrow. "You were...?" he prompted, smirking just a little. Ken glared at him.

"Shut up, Youji. We were kissing, all right? One minute he was enjoying himself, and the next..." he shrugged. "He freaked out on me, and started yelling at me. I'm pretty sure that was Mamoru - he talked the same way. And then Om - uh, Bombay - tried to get Mamoru to take control when that guard was feeling him up..." He growled and smacked his fist into his other palm.

"From what Mamoru himself said about his memories, plus what Ken just told us, I think we can safely assume there was sexual abuse involved as well," Aya said, eyes narrowed. "The question is, what are we going to do now?"

"It's only going to get worse if we leave it," Youji commented. "He needs help, and the sooner he gets it, the easier it will be for him."

"But what about what Mamoru said?" Ken asked. "He really will kill himself to protect Omi and Bombay, I think. And do we really have the right to force that kind of thing onto them?"

Youji waved dismissively. "We won't be 'forcing' anything on anybody. The first step isn't to shove the personalities together, it's to help them deal with their issues, so that when they DO merge, it's all been dealt with."

Ken rolled his eyes. "Oh, that's great, Youji. Who's going to help Bombay deal with the issues he has over KILLING people on a regular basis? Doctor-patient confidentiality doesn't extend to harbouring criminals, you know."

"The doctor helping him will be from Kritiker, not an ordinary psychiatrist," Aya said. "Obviously, we cannot let someone not connected to the organization see him. What we need to do now is get in touch with Manx, preferably, because she knows Omi better."

"I'm beginning to wonder if anybody really knows Omi at all," Ken replied, sighing. "And that still doesn't answer the question of what we're going to do if Mamoru carries out his threat to kill himself."

"We will just have to convince him that this is necessary." Aya stood, moving to the rack where the aprons were kept. "Which we will not be able to do until he returns. In the meantime, we need to keep up our usual pretense. Which means, opening the shop on time."

 

* * *

Ken was never more grateful to see the grate come down over the door than he was that evening. Omi hadn't returned, and it felt like the longest damn day he'd ever lived through. Waving off Youji's offer to call out for food, he grabbed his helmet and bike and went to think things through the way he always did - by driving around aimlessly until his head cleared.

Sometimes it worked better than others. This time apparently it wasn't going to do anything except get him temporarily lost. He stopped for a quick bite to eat at a little ramen stand, then made his way back to the Koneko, still brooding.

Omi, Bombay, Mamoru. All different people, though Omi and Bombay had been similar enough up till now not to excite notice. Ken had been falling in love with him - or he thought he had. The question now was, which ONE was he in love with? Not Mamoru, since he'd never come across that personality until two days ago. It was Omi's sweet, innocent cheerfulness that had first attracted him - but it was Bombay's dedication to making the world a better place that kept his interest. Omi's caring nature - but Bombay's quiet determination.

He couldn't separate them in his mind. He'd thought of them as being the same person for too long. And why was Omi willing and receptive to his overtures, while Bombay found them repulsive?

Finally he turned his bike back towards the Koneko. Youji and Aya were nowhere to be seen when he climbed the stairs to their living space, but a note on the kitchen table let him know they were both out at their respective night pursuits - Youji sniffing around whatever cute girls he'd met that day, and Aya hunting for his sister. He wondered if Omi had come home yet.

His question was answered when he opened the door to his room, to find Omi sprawled out on his bed, fast asleep. The boy had one hand tucked up under his cheek, and he looked angelic. Ken smiled and sat down next to him, brushing the bangs from his face.

Wide blue eyes blinked twice, then gazed up at him. There were tearstains on his face, and his eyes were red-rimmed. He'd obviously been crying a lot, and recently. He sniffled once, then smiled back at Ken. "Ken-kun. Gomen, I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"That's okay," Ken reassured him quietly. "You've had a hell of a rough day. What do you remember?"

Omi shook his head, sitting up and pulling his knees to his chest. "Bits and pieces. I remember that we were arguing - but I don't remember about what. Or how I got up here. I just..." He sighed. "Ken-kun, what's wrong with me? Why is this happening to me?"

Ken hesitated. That was a perfect opening if he'd ever heard one, but he wasn't sure Omi was ready to hear the answer. He stalled, scooting back so he was sitting upright against his headboard, and gesturing an invitation to Omi to join him. The younger boy curled up against him, head on his chest, as Ken put an arm around his shoulders.

"Omi... this is gonna be really tough for you. Just hear me out and stick with me, okay?" Omi nodded hesitantly, and Ken sighed. "How much do you know about multiple personalities?"

Omi blinked at him. "We studied it a little in science. During a psychology unit. Wh-why?"

"Because it seems like you have it." Ken decided the blunt truth was probably the best way to go. There really just wasn't any way of sugar-coating this.

Omi was silent for a long moment, resting so still against Ken that the older boy wasn't even sure his friend was still breathing. He was afraid he might have lost him - pushed him over the edge into one of his other personalities again. But his voice, when he spoke, was still his own, and he made no move to pull away from Ken's embrace.

"So... all the stuff that I'm missing... there was another personality in charge?" He seemed to be taking it fairly well, but there was a quiver in his voice that hinted at hysterics if Ken wasn't careful.

"Yeah. None of us ever noticed, because it was mostly just you and one other personality, and you're pretty much the same person. But then when I kissed you the other night - I apparently triggered a third one, that had been dormant for a long time."

There was silence for another long moment as Omi worked that out. "My teacher said that most split personality cases are induced by childhood trauma," he finally said quietly. "Usually abuse, usually sexual. Is that what happened to me?"

Ken nodded slowly. "Seems that way, though Mamoru - uh, that's this third personality's name - Mamoru's not talking about it."

"Mamoru." The quiver was considerably stronger now, as he repeated the name. "That - that sounds familiar, but... I..." He buried his face in Ken's chest, shoulders shaking. Alarmed, Ken stroked his hair soothingly.

"Omi, Omi, it's okay. Don't push yourself, okay? This is a lot to take in all at once, I know."

"Wh-what's going to happen to me now?" he asked, sniffling.

"Well... that depends. Youji says that this is only going to get worse if we leave it alone. But..."

"But?"

"But Mamoru doesn't want us to do anything about it. He was pretty vehement about it. I think... I think he was the one who lived through the abuse, and he's trying to protect you and Bombay from it."

"Bombay?" Omi's eyes widened, as he glanced up. "What kind of name is that?"

"Uh..." Ken swore internally and backpedaled fast. "Well, that's... just something he picked for himself, I guess."

"But wouldn't you have noticed when he called himself that?"

Ken rolled his eyes. "Well, no... I mean, yes, but... ah, hell. We noticed, but it didn't seem unusual, because that's your codename."

"Codename?" Omi squeaked, clutching at Ken's shirt. "Codename for what?

"That's... a long story, and I don't think you're quite ready to hear about it just yet, Omittchi." He sighed. "For now, just take it for granted that you sometimes go by Bombay."

"Do you have a codename? And Youji-kun and Aya-kun?" Omi's inexhaustible curiosity was showing through even now. Ken chuckled.

"Yeah. I'm Siberian. Youji is Balinese, and Aya's Abyssinian."

Omi mulled that over for a while. "Those are all cat breeds, aren't they? And now I remember you mentioned a Persia and a Manx earlier..."

"Yep. And Birman. But let's not go into that right now - it might trigger Bombay showing up again, and I don't need another bruised rib, thank you." Omi looked at him quizzically, and he shrugged. "Apparently Bombay doesn't like me very much."

"Gomen nasai!" Omi cried, patting him on the chest as if to check for damage. Ken laughed, and hugged him.

"Baka. It's okay. Though I will admit you were driving me nuts until we figured out what the hell was going on. I thought you were trying to drive ME insane!"

Instead of laughing with him as he'd hoped, his words made Omi draw back, tears in his eyes again.

"I... I AM insane, aren't I?" he asked, that distressed quiver returning full-force. "And... and I'm not even me. Not really. I wasn't the first personality... and..." His voice cracked, and Ken pulled him closer.

"Hey. Hey! It's okay. Don't think of it like that, Omi. You're you, just as much as they're you. At this point, there really isn't that much difference between you and Bombay. He's a little more serious than you are, a little more focused. And Mamoru's a little rougher. But you're all YOU. Everyone has different facets to their personality, yours just happen to have a slightly sharper edge between them."

Omi clung to him, and cried. Ken let him, not trying to stop him, just murmuring reassuringly and rubbing his back gently. It was a hell of a thing to find out about yourself. He wondered how he would take this kind of news, and he decided his reaction probably would have been a lot angrier than Omi's.

At last his tears dried, and he glanced up again. "Thank you," he whispered softly, sincerely. "Ken-kun, you've been such a good friend to me, always. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Ken blushed, a little embarrassed. "Aw, that's okay. You're my friend, Omi. I care about you, a lot. You know I'd do anything for you."

"Ken-kun, I..." Omi hesitated, drew a deep breath, and plunged forward. "I love you. And I always will, no matter what."

"Omi..." Ken closed his eyes, savouring the warm feeling in his chest at the boy's words. "I love you too, Omittchi. All of you, every part. No matter what."

He felt Omi's lips brush hesitantly against his, and he kissed him back, careful to keep it light and unthreatening. He didn't let himself get carried away, however much his body was demanding that he deepen the kiss and get serious.

Omi seemed to have other plans, though. The boy moved against him with urgency, hands clutching at Ken's shoulders as he tried to squirm closer. Ken finally pulled away, panting.

"Oi, Omi... what's with you?"

Omi blushed and look down. "I... I'm afraid. And I don't want to be! I know you'd never hurt me. I... I want this, I really do..."

Ken hushed him with fingers on his lips. "You don't have to do this all at once, Omi. I'm happy going slow. I don't ever want to do anything that hurts or scares you, okay? So just take it one step at a time."

Omi nodded, and Ken leaned down to kiss him again. They traded shy, chaste kisses for a while, close-lipped and dry, hands running hesitantly over each other's shoulders and arms. Then Omi opened his mouth, and Ken followed his lead, struggling to still keep it light.

He felt the tentative brush of the younger boy's tongue, but he didn't answer it. Instead he let Omi explore, fighting to stay still and relaxed under the boy's touch. Omi reached up to cup his cheek, hand trembling badly.

Ken tried to pull away when he felt that, but Omi hung on, determined. He slipped his tongue inside Ken's mouth, his other hand coming down to rest on Ken's chest.

And it was too much for him - with a gasp, he went rigid, muscles locking up as he froze in Ken's arms. Ken pulled away with a curse, putting a bit of distance between him and the boy, waiting to see which personality would emerge.

The eyes that stared back at him were hard and jaded, but the boy made no move to shove him away. Instead he sighed, and raked a hand through his hair. "Sorry," Mamoru muttered, looking away from him. "That was Omi's fault, not yours."

Ken regarded him levelly. "At least you didn't try to crack my ribs again," he said, not without a hint of humour. Mamoru was surprised into a chuckle.

"Sorry about that, too. I over-reacted. It's just - I'd never been in control when we WEREN'T in immediate danger of being..." He trailed off and bit his lip, realizing what he was about to confess.

"Raped?" Ken guessed shrewdly. Mamoru nodded. "We kinda figured. Was it... Takatori?"

Mamoru snorted. "Reiji, Masafumi - when he wasn't too busy cutting me open instead - two of my instructors at Kritiker..."

"Kritiker!" Ken exclaimed, disbelieving. "No way! Persia would never let them..."

"Persia didn't know about it!" Mamoru retorted. "Bombay gave way to me as soon as they started anything, and I never once talked to Persia."

"Oh." Ken thought about that for a while. "I guess I can see why you don't want them to know," he finally said slowly. "I mean... it must have been pretty awful. I can't even start to imagine. But, Mamoru..."

"I already decided," Mamoru interrupted him. He shook his head when Ken wanted to protest further. "I decided to get help," he finished, and chuckled weakly at Ken's surprised look.

"How come?"

Mamoru's eyes darkened, and he glanced away. "When Bombay stalked off, eventually Omi came back. He, of course, was completely lost, and had no idea how to get back. He wandered into an alley, and..." he shuddered. "A couple of punks tried to mug him. Tried."

Ken studied him gravely. "The... the new personality came back?"

Mamoru swallowed hard, and nodded. "Man, I thought I couldn't be grossed out any more - not after everything that's happened to me. But he... he SCARES me." He drew his knees up to his chest and hugged his legs. "I... I can't let him get in a position where he's in control. Ever. He's too vicious."

Ken rested a hand on the boy's shoulder, not certain how his touch would be received. Mamoru just looked over at him, and sighed. "We'll help you," Ken told him solemnly. "However we can. We're your friends, you know. Not just Omi's."

Mamoru nodded, leaning against his touch. "It's kinda nice to have a friend," he muttered, sounding shy. "To know that just 'cause you're touching me, it doesn't mean you... that you..."

Ken squeezed his shoulder. "No worries. We'll call Manx in the morning, and have her get you set up with someone that can help you, okay?"

Mamoru nodded again. "Would you... would you mind if... I... stayed with you tonight?" he asked, his voice almost too quiet to hear.

"Are you sure?" Ken asked, surprised. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable..."

"I'm sure," Mamoru replied. "I just... don't want to be alone for a while..."

Ken silently stood, tugging his friend up as well, and turned down the covers. He slid in, still fully clothed, and Mamoru followed him, pulling the blankets up over them. They settled in, Mamoru leaning against Ken's chest as Ken wrapped his arms around the smaller boy.

"Why does Bombay hate me so much, anyway?" Ken asked idly, as sleep started to steal over them. Mamoru chuckled softly.

"Because you keep making passes at him," he replied sleepily. "Bombay is straight. He's the one who was in love with Ouka."

Ken's eyes widened. "Sou ka! That explains why Omi never cared when she would storm out of the store in a huff..."

"He found her more than a little annoying," Mamoru confirmed. He yawned. "I would suggest that if Bombay has nightmares tonight, you not try to wake him up. He'd be more than a little upset to find himself in bed with you."

Chuckling, Ken nodded. "Oyasumi, Mamoru," he murmured

"Oyasumi."

 

* * *

Ken hummed softly under his breath as he swept the broom across the floor. It was the song Omi had always sung to himself as he worked - these last months the store had seemed empty without it, so Ken had taken to humming it. Aya was putting the finishing touches on an arrangement, while Youji lounged against the table in the center of the room. It was almost time to close up, and the store was empty except for the three of them.

Four months since the youngest Weiss had left with Manx, on his way to a hospital somewhere in the country where he would, hopefully, be able to put the pieces of his life back together. Work - both their day and night jobs - had seemed strange without him there. The missions Weiss was given were less difficult, and involved a lot less hacking with him gone. They hadn't had so much as a letter from him - understandable when you considered what he had to be going through.

The bell chimed, and Ken glanced up, hoping that the customer didn't want a big order. It was closing time, after all, and he wanted to get out and get some fresh air. "Irrashaima... Omi!"

Youji and Aya glanced up at his exclamation. Omi stood in the door, looking tired and much thinner than before, holding his duffle bag before him. He smiled back at them.

"Hey, guys," he replied. His voice was somewhere between Omi's cheerful chirp and Mamoru's husky growl, and his smile held more sadness than before.

"They said I could come home," he continued, shifting his bag from one hand to the other, a little nervously. "I'm not a hundred percent yet - I've still got a lot of stuff to work through - but at least I'm all in one piece."

"Welcome back, Omi," Aya said, cracking a rare smile for the boy.

"Or is it Mamoru?" Youji added, brow arched. Omi shrugged.

"Omi. I decided that Abyss... Aya... was right. Takatori Mamoru is dead, and better off that way. I'm Tsukiyono Omi." He chuckled. "And if I call you guys by the wrong names sometimes, it's 'cause I'm still trying to remember that Abyssinian, Balinese and Siberian are the same people as Aya, Youji and Ken. It gets confusing."

Ken could only stare at him, assessing the changes four months of struggle had wrought. There was a calmness about him, a peace that hadn't been there before, even when he was Omi. His gaze was full of the weight of the things that had happened to him - but it was leavened by the lightness of hope and cheer in characteristic Omi style.

Youji coughed into his hand, and winked slyly at Ken. "Aya, why don't we go up and see what we can do for dinner? We ought to at least try to do something special to welcome Omittchi back."

Aya followed the playboy's gaze to where Ken and Omi were now trying to look anywhere but at each other, and nodded, the hint of another smile playing about his lips. "Aa," was all he said, as he shed his apron and moved to follow Youji up the stairs. "Ken and Omi, you two close up."

Omi dropped his bag and turned to lock the door behind him, pulling the metal shutter down to indicate that the store was close. Ken swept up the last of the clippings, brushing them into a dustpan and dumping them into the garbage. He kept watching his friend out of the corner of his eyes as he worked.

"Omi..." he started hesitantly.

"Ken..." Omi began at the same instant, and they both trailed off, laughing.

"You first," Ken told him, hand behind his head in embarrassment. Omi's eyes sparkled at him with some of his old levity.

He stepped closer, reaching out to place one hand gently on the older boy's chest. "I... I thought about you a lot, while I was gone," he confided, his voice lowered to a whisper. Ken reached up to cover his hand with his own, squeezing gently. "It was... weird. I basically had to come to terms with my preferences all over again." He snorted softly. "Bombay was NOT pleased to discover that he was in the minority."

Ken chuckled. "I bet." He put his other arm around Omi's waist, giving him plenty of time to pull away. He didn't.

Instead he leaned closer, putting both his arms around Ken's waist, resting his cheek on Ken's shoulder. "I'll always love Ouka," he murmured, breath feathering over the skin of Ken's neck, making him shiver. "But... I love you, too. Always. No matter what."

"Omi..." Ken trailed off, and leaned down to kiss him. Omi responded for a moment, then shuddered and pulled away a bit.

"Gomen..." He blushed. "It... it's gonna be a while before I can do much of that. Like I said, I've still got a lot of stuff to work through. And..." he glanced up shyly. "I'm not the person you remember. Not really. There's a lot more of Mamoru in me now."

Ken smiled back at him. "I told you then, and I meant it - I love all of you. I loved Bombay just as much as I loved Omi. And I would have loved Mamoru too, I'm sure. And I'll help you work through it all - we'll go slow, as slow as you need to, I promise." When Omi still looked uncertain, he hugged him and added, "Nothing ever goes the way people plan it, Omi. There's always rough spots in any relationship. But you're worth waiting for."

"Ken." Omi buried his face in Ken's shoulder, and they stood like that for long moments. "Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Then let's not ever find out," Ken replied, resting his cheek against the top of Omi's head. "We'll get through this together, and we'll both be stronger for it." He held him for a few more minutes, then pulled away and grabbed his hand. "C'mon. Let's go up before they manage to burn the kitchen down. Last one up has to do all the deliveries tomorrow!"

They raced up the stairs, their laughter bouncing off the walls and mingling together, brightening the store.


End file.
